Graffiti isn’t graffiti
unless she calls it.
On an old water tower crowning
an abandoned grain mill— 

perhaps. “Erin I love you” attaching
itself to the “and then it got
very cool” end
of Ashbery’s poem on a pedestrian 

bridge—definitely.
These messages 

you leave
for her in waterfall rushing
to flow into southern lines—
she thinks they won’t disappear too soon.